Waiting For The Future To Change
by Ebenbild
Summary: "You're ready to return to work, at last?" Harry isn't sure about that, after all there's 157 years of backlog to consider thanks to 271 missed chances to righten things before they got out of hand. Furthermore he has to rework more than 700 years of his master plan just because of one blind goat. No wonder Harry's upset. But that's Harry's life for you. Death! maybe MoD!Harry


_**Disclaimer:**_ _HP does not belong to me, just the idea I used on the characters… all recognizable things are Rowlings_

 _ **Information:**_ _No change in canon, the story just adds to it._

 _I guess, that story could be either seen as MoD!Harry or Death!Harry, whatever. Decide yourself._

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 **sSs**

 **WAITING FOR THE FUTURE TO CHANGE**

 **sSs**

Harry James Potter, the man who killed Lord Voldemort, died in his sleep at 156 years of age. His wife had already died two years before, one of his best friends about five years ago, the other one three and a half years previously.

The only one still alive of the old ministry crew was Luna.

She visited him on the day of his death.

"You're ready to return to work, at last?" she asked him while watching him with her oddly dreamy, silver eyes when his breathing slowed.

Harry scoffed tiredly, his eyes already piercing the veil that shielded the world from the beyond.

"I'm not looking forward to all the paperwork that will have piled up, while I was taking a holiday," he quipped and Luna laughed.

"That bad?" she asked.

"Worse," was his answer. Then he smiled. "I'll have some horrendous… years ahead of me. Not… looking forward… to them…"

Luna smiled.

"Just remind yourself that you're finally allowed to kick some arses again," she commended. "Come for a visit when you're done."

The answer was a nearly unseen smile on Harry's face.

"Will… do," he said; then he closed his eyes and with a shaking gulp, he drew his last breath.

Harry Potter was dead.

The sun touched the horizon and slowly twilight descended upon Britain.

A second later, a millennia old creature once more opened its deadly eyes to the world. Its icy, green eyes met the dreamy silver one of Luna Scarmander, née Lovegood.

Luna smiled, and the creature turned without a word away from her and vanished without looking back at her.

"It's nice to see you again, my beloved Lord and Master," she whispered into the silent loneliness of Harry's bedroom.

 **sSs**

Meanwhile, the being was looking down at the world, its otherworldly, unearthly face twisted in a scowl.

"Bloody, meddling idiot," it murmured. "Time-disturbing, lazy bastard!"

Then it took out of the pocket of its simple black robe, a silvery cloak. It threw it over its shoulder, watching it grow until it could hide its skeletal and deadly pale body beneath it. After that, with one step, it moved from London to Hogwarts. Its hand gestured impatiently and a wand broke through a tombstone. It flew through the night air, to finally snuggle contently in the claw-like hand of its master. For a few seconds it rested there, contently, then it simply merged with the long and thin hand itself and vanished beneath the skin of the being. The being stared at its hand, then it shook it and the wand returned. This time the wand was slightly bigger, more whole than it had looked before. One half of it had sharpened and it was slightly crooked, its new form fitting far better in the beings long fingered hands.

For a moment the being contemplated if it should let the tombstone rest like it was now. Cracked, and splintered and in disrepair.

"Would deserve it, right," the being muttered angrily. "Two hundred seventy-one chances!"

Then the being snorted and with a flick of its wand, fixed the tomb again.

"Wouldn't want to be accused of grave robbery. _That_ would be awkward, somehow."

Then the being made another step and its feet again touched the grass and leaves on the ground, somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. The wand in the beings hand twitched to the right and the being followed its lead until it finally stopped in the middle of the forest. The being looked down on the floor and then slowly bowed and picked something up from the ground.

It was a stone.

It was THE stone.

The being looked at it, then it shrugged, threw it in the air and caught it again. Just that when the stone was caught, it was slightly bigger than before. It repeated the process for another two times, the stone continuing to grow slightly, but then it sighed and threw it on the ground with a clearly heard thud – as if something heavy had hid the ground from great high above.

A lightning emerged from the stone and burned the air above it. Then the lightning split, slowly giving way to a gateway of darkness, fuelled by light spots as if it was a night sky lit with firework.

The being looked at it.

It sighed.

"Year 1238, I guess," it muttered darkly and the firework changed from multi-coloured to solely green and golden ones.

Again, the being sighed, then hissed annoyed under its breath. "Bloody meddling old goat," it said. "Can't believe I have to rework over seven hundred years just because he can't take a hunch."

And with that, the being stepped through the portal and back in time.

The year 1238 was oddly quiet compared to the future. Just a few years before, the Magna Charta had been signed and the time now was oddly empty of important occurrences in time.

But then, even if it would have been an important time in history, the being wouldn't have cared.

It was just here for one thing.

"Damn meddling old goat! Couldn't he meddle where he was supposed to do it?" The being complained, while it picked up the stone and dissolved the portal. "Seven hundred years of rework – just because of him! I should have just killed him in 1899 with that spray spell that hit his little sister instead! Far easier than that!"

Regrettably, there was no way to kill the meddling old goat early on. _That_ would have disrupted timeline even more than the damn man himself ever could.

So the being had been forced to go back to 1238 to start changing the timeline of the next seven hundred odd years.

"Idiotic meddler!"

The being held out its wand again and the wand twitched. With a sigh, its master followed its directions.

It took another half an hour until the being found what it was looking for. Three magicals. Three brothers trying to cross a river.

"And here it begins," it thought while watching them and then stopped them from leaving the bridge. A few compliments, and then the question the being had known it would have to ask. "Each of you earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade me," it said. "Tell me what you want and I will grand it to you."

And so the being shaped the future as it spoke.

"Damn foolish goat!"

The three brothers left that day with treasures like the world hadn't ever seen before.

A wand that would be undefeated – a piece of the being's own wand.

 _The eldest fell to its thrall._

A stone that would bring back the dead – a splinter of the stone the being used itself.

 _The middle brother would kill himself to end its torture._

A cloak that even death could not see through – a part of the silvery cloak the being wore over its shoulders.

 _The youngest would present it to his son when he would be old and grey._

And the being just cursed and rearranged those threads of time that had to remain at all costs.

The eldest brother's son would never be born now – but it didn't matter in the long run. Said son never married anyway, and never had any children of his own.

The second born now killed himself, but his unclaimed daughter survived and the being had to bring her the stone and write her a note, saying what it was and who it belonged to.

Just the youngest's family remained the same – for the time being, at least.

The being was grateful when the old timeline slowly merged with the new one. People, that were alive before, still died before their time, but now the being's old self took care of them and finally, after a hundred and twenty-six, gruelling years, the being was free to move on.

Again, it threw the rest of the stone that it still had, to the ground and a portal emerged. This time the portal would move it forwards in time – something a wizard would be unable to do. But the being never was a wizard anyway.

"To the year 1979," it murmured and the colours of the fireworks in the portal turn blue and yellow. When the being had stepped through, it picked up the stone and hid it in its cloak.

 _Now the true work would begin._

"Damn you, you blinded old man!" The being cursed. "Two hundred seventy-one chances! _Two._ Hundred. _Seventy._ One! How, in the name of Life, can anyone mess up that much?!"

Well, the being knew the answer. It just wished that it didn't.

So it just turned on its heel and then stopped mid-step.

There was a grave in front of it.

" _Ignotus Peverell_ ," it read. " _12_ _th_ _July, 1214 – 18_ _th_ _May, 1291."_

 _A cloak that hide a man from the being's grasps._

 _A wand, known as the Death Stick._

 _And a stone made to a ring._

 _All just there to be means for an end sometime in the future; to be reunited in the being's hands._

The being just sighed, shook its head and then stepped away. A single step and it was gone.

It reappeared in the one realm that was truly its own.

It was a cold realm, misty and white.

Its first job was already waiting for it.

 _August, 23_ _rd_ _in 1979._

"Welcome to the final sanctuary from Dark Dorks and Twinkle-Eyed Idiots," the being greeted Regulus Arcturus Black. Regulus blinked at that astonished.

Silence filled the air between them.

"Come again?" Regulus finally asked hesitatingly.

"Don't worry. You heard it correctly at the first time," the being snorted and then grumbled. "Damn meddle-some old goats who can't meddle at the right time! Seven hundred years of rework just because of one dunderhead!"

For a moment Regulus gawked. Then he decided to speak freely with the clearly upset being in front of him – after all, there was no way this could get even more horrible than it was for him now, could it?

"Sounds as if you're… unhappy, somehow," he finally declared.

The answer was an exasperated scoff.

"Try giving a twinkle-eyed idiot every means to stop the next dark dork from rising, just to be forced to do everything yourself in the end – and then, believe me, you'll get why I'm pissed!"

That, Regulus decided, was an odd declaration from a being like the one in front of him. Still, he decided to humour it, just in case there was worse to come if he didn't.

"How pissed?" He asked carefully.

" _Two hundred seventy-one_ chances pissed. Can't believe that I'm forced to invoke _Fate_ after giving that twinkle-eyed idiot two hundred seventy-one bloody chances in _thirty_ -eight years to either get rid of the dark dork or to change him to the better. Two hundred seventy-one chances! What else should I have done?! Paint a red target on the dark dork's back so that the twinkle-eyed meddler sees him?! Find a way to kill the dark dork without touching him, just to give him the anger treatment that the damn meddling old goat should have given him?! Turn the dark dork into a goat and give him to Aberforth?! – No, wait. That's a gross idea. Put a baby in the dark dork's way so that he falls over it and twists his ankle?! I'm out of ideas! I'm out of patience! And I'm definitely out of my mind that I'm still trying!" the being cried exasperated. "Two. _Hundred._ Seventy. _One._ Chances! There is no way in hell to miss them all if you at least tried! So how, by the Life of all things, did that damn meddler manage to muck them up all anyway?!"

Regulus blinked at that.

"I'm still not sure what you're talking about," he said.

The answer was a huff.

"I'm talking about a one hundred and fifty-seven years backlog in managing my realm! I don't even want to know how my office looks like when I'm finally able to step in it again! If I will be able to step in it at all – with that much paperwork backlog I'm not sure I even can!" The being explained heatedly. "Damn meddling old goats and their wish to fuck up an eight hundred six-four year old plan regarding this timeline! I'm working double shifts right now and I still won't have time for paperwork!"

"Er… maybe you should ask for some help?" Regulus suggested, while thinking of all the people dying not only of natural cause but because of the Death Eaters as well.

The being in front of him scoffed.

"Yeah, that would go over well," it said. "No problem! I just go to my boss and tell him that I won't send some of my souls to either go on or to be reincarnated for some time because I need someone to take care of my paperwork. They would never believe me – and even worse: they would never allow me to do that! Damn meddling old goat and his stupid plan that destroys all of my plans!"

Regulus just blinked at that, not too sure how to react.

"So… what else can you do?" he finally asked the being. Said being just shrugged.

"Just say that I was desperate enough to get myself reborn _and_ ask Fate for help – and I _stopped_ trusting her even with the littlest things somewhere between the Oracle of Delphi and Cassandra!" So, Regulus concluded, a long, long time ago.

"So, what are you planning to do now?" Regulus asked finally.

The answer was a sneer.

"I wait until that damn meddler is dead and then I reincarnate him in a bloody cockroach! And I'll do that again and again until his brains are nothing more but memory!" The being hissed. "And when the dark dork joins him, I'll puzzle him back together the wrong way and find him another cockroach to inhabit until he's crazy because he can't make heads or tails out of his own, newly built soul!"

Regulus blinked at that, then he decided to join the fun.

"And what can I do?" he asked.

The being stopped in mid-rant.

"You?"

"Yes," Regulus said while shrugging. "You've been ranting at me since I got here. I figured that I would at least be able to have a little part in whatever you plan for the future…"

The piercing Avada Kedavra green eyes that speared him with their gaze were definitely disconcerting.

"Maybe…," the being finally said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need some help with all that stuff I'm managing right now…"

It trailed of, still looking at Regulus oddly.

"Ever thought of keeping your memory and returning to the living?" it finally asked. "You may not be allowed to go after the Horcruxes of the dark dork or let on that you know of your former life – but you could get back down there and look over myself while I don't remember who I am. I could need someone who can aid me in my fifth and later in my seventh year at Hogwarts. If you don't want to, then there's always the choice to either be reincarnated without your memories like everybody else – or to go on, like some others choose."

Regulus grimaced at both of the other choices given.

For a moment he still hesitated, then he grinned.

"Alright. I'll do it. I'll support you even if there's no one else who will," he said. "Send me back with my memories intact, my Lord."

The answer is a chuckle from the being.

"I'm neither Lord nor Master to you, Regulus Arcturus Black. The only thing I always am, is the final part of life. I am the friend that's always near, but that you won't know until the end."

Regulus answered that announcement with a grin of his own.

"Alright, beloved, send me back!"

That time the being chuckled.

"Beloved. Well, that's new, at least," it said and Regulus shrugged.

"I could add something if you think it's too short," he declared. The being snorted and waved its hand.

"Do whatever you please, loony sage!" It declared.

Regulus grinned.

"I like that. 'Loony sage', sounds like a new life-motto for me!" He said, and with that, his soul vanished from the being's realm to return into the reincarnation-process.

After Regulus, the dead kept coming – until that one final Hallowe'en night. The night the being from the future had just been waiting for.

"Hello father," it greeted the man when he finally showed up. The man started and then stared at the being in front of him for about five seconds until he hesitatingly asked: "Harry?"

The being just smiled.

"That was once my name," it said and with that announcement silvery, ghostly tears began to spill from the man's eyes.

"I hoped, you would survive," he said in a pleading tone and the being just smiled.

"I did," it answered. "I died of old age. I am from the future, father."

And in the next moment it was hugged desperately by the soul in front of it. A very confused woman took that moment to appear right behind the man.

"James?" she asked.

"It's Harry," James answered and let go of the being. "He came back in time to tell us, he survived and died of old age."

That wasn't exactly true, but the being kept quiet.

"So… where are we going from here?" James finally asked.

"Either on, or back," the being answered. "It's your choice if you want to be reincarnated or if you want to go into eternal peace."

And they choose to stay and wait for their loved ones.

When Sirius joined them, years later, he elected the same.

Then Albus Dumbledore, the Great Leader of the Light died – and the being couldn't stop itself anymore. With a mighty swing it brought him down on his knees just as he entered – striking him down to show its displeasure for the old man's meddling. The old goat just stared at the being, his eyes huge, while holding his jaw that was broken by the impact.

" _Eight hundred_ sixty-four years of planning – _**destroyed**_!" The being ranted at him, finally letting go of its frustration that had kept it going until now. " _Two hundred_ seventy-one chances in _thirty_ -eight years to change this conflict into your favour! I gave you _every_ tool I could think of so that you could win – _**but you did nothing**_! You forced me to go to _Fate_ and make changes in my master plan over the last _seven hundred_ years! You created one _hundred fifty_ -seven years of _**backlog**_ in my work _and_ paperwork! I swear, I will have your hide for the paperwork you caused me in those years! And I swear to you, that it will be even _worse_ _ **once**_ I find my office under all that paper once more!"

Albus Dumbledore gulped.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe, he shouldn't have waited for a saviour to pop up under a prophecy for the last fifty years. It seems, that in the end, waiting for a saviour wasn't worth it if the saviour turns out to be **Death** itself.

"You and Tom Riddle can already get used to being cockroaches," the being hissed.

No, definitely _not_ worth it.

 **sSs**

One hundred forty-three years later, Luna Scarmander, née Lovegood looked up from the book she was reading upside down.

"It's time, my beloved Lord and Master?" she asked.

Death just smiled at her and held out its hand.

She took it and returned its smile.

"It's nice to see you again, Harry," she says.

"You too, Regulus," Death answers and together they leave Life behind and go on into the beyond.

 **sSs**

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 **sSs**

 _Well, that's it. And yeah, I know the story is a little bit odd, but I think it worked out fine, in the end._

 _Hope you liked it._

 _Ebenbild_

 _P.S.: The use of present tense in the last two sentences is intentional – just if you wonder._


End file.
